


Cat's In The Cradle

by whysosiriusumbridge



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern Era, Mystery, Politics, Reunions, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Spies & Secret Agents, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25112449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whysosiriusumbridge/pseuds/whysosiriusumbridge
Summary: Bucky was one of Steve’s earliest memories. He sharply remembered the fat on Bucky’s cheeks the first time their mothers had met, the way he had been sucking his thumb and Steve had felt slightly disgusted with him because he’s a baby, Ma, and I’m four – how can I play with him?ORThe one in which Steve and Bucky are separated during childhood and Steve doesn't get his head out of his ass until it's too late. Bucky also doesn't get his head out of his ass until it's too late. And in the meantime, Steve's getting suspicious about Sam's supposed new girlfriend Maria, Peter's classmate Shuri who works down at cafeYggdrasiland his pal Thor's wayward brother Loki. Surely, the universe hasn't suddenly decided to throw all possible curve balls at him at once?ORFeels. Feels. Feels. Feels. Feels. Feels. Feels.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	Cat's In The Cradle

**Author's Note:**

> I have no self control. Absolutely none. Enjoy my newest obsession and pray that I get motivation to finish this. Like ever (but really, do pray cuz I have all chapters planned and the only thing between us is laziness).  
> Special thanks to [maikurosaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maikurosaki/pseuds/maikurosaki) for helping me through this.

_2004_

Ever since returning from the army, Steve Roger’s life has been something of a journey, a lesson in moving on and Adjusting to Civilian Life. It takes him a year but he builds his careful mindset with much practice, therapy lessons and late night conversations with Sam.

“Looking back and drowning in your memories or mourning the past doesn’t get you anywhere productive.” Sam’s said it to him so many times that now the sentence plays in his head almost daily, predictably in his now best friend’s reassuring voice.

He’s used to coming back from active duty and trying to readjust himself into normal life where he’s supposedly almost always safe and doesn’t have to find cover at every loud noise. But he’s not used to the aftermath of leading covert intelligence operations conducted for the US Government on foreign soil and in active war zones.

The weight of his actions and the principles he’s had to sacrifice every time he’s completed a mission by hook or crook makes him questions all his ideals and principles and decisions that had led him on that path. As he’d risen higher through the ranks, the nasty side of politics and the ugly decision making had gotten on his nerves so much that he would’ve been happy to get permanently injured if it meant getting an out.

Colonel Nicholas Fury, his immediate superior, had taken pity on him and allowed him to retire and arranged for an innocent honorable discharge. It’s not as easy as he’d hoped it to be – it’s tougher to blend into crowds when it feels like there are people watching him everywhere. It’s tougher to be discreet in a brightly lit supermarket and sometimes it’s hard to breathe in the subway with sealed exists and flickering lights.

But he’s made of tougher stuff and learns to adjust, once again, and since he’s out for good, he decides to get his degree in Fine Arts.

* * *

_2006_

Three months before his graduation, he meets Natasha in the rundown café _Yggdrasil_. It’s one of his and Sam’s favorite places to hang out since it’s conveniently located a couple of blocks from the VA and his and Sam’s cramped shared accommodation.

He’s trying to catch up with the newest issue of _Art Review_ when she decides to sit across from him and stare at him in an extremely unnerving way.

“Can I help you?” He asks politely but she’s unmoving in a way that sets some dormant alarms off in his head. Her back is straight and she makes no noise while drinking whatever is in her cup, or while setting it down on the round table between them.

Her red hair is flowing freely and she’s in a yellow pea coat that looks rather heavy for the light weather. His frowns uncomfortably when she doesn’t respond and only blinks, once.

He looks carefully around the sunny room for any telltale signs of people watching them or trying to eavesdrop on the conversation and when he finds none, he turns narrowed eyes upon the redhead who’s now smirking at him.

“Fury wants to know how you’re doing.”

That’s the only sentence she says to him that day and the thought that Fury doesn’t trust him pisses him off so goddamn much that his whole day is ruined.

The café is one he frequents though; Thor, the guy who runs it with his girlfriend is probably the first friend Steve’s made since…

Well, Sam, if his former therapist counts.

Anyway, he finds himself seated across Natasha a couple more times and she eventually utters enough sentences to let him know that Fury sends her to check up on him when she’s off duty, which Steve doesn’t believe for a second.

Three months after his graduation and exactly six months after he meets Natasha, he’s introduced to Clint.

He’d just moved into Thor’s apartment complex with Sam (one that actually had separate bathrooms, would you believe that?) and had been carrying two boxes up the stairs when he’d heard a voice calling out.

“Hey, you need some help with that?”

He’d looked around but upon seeing no one had looked up for some reason, and found himself almost face to face with a blond man hanging upside down by the railing. The sheer ridiculousness of the scene in front of him – _an inverted body hanging from the stairs!_ – had made him jerk back into the wall and in the process lose his footing.

Clint Barton had proceeded to jump down – _jump down_ – from the stairs, landing on his fucking feet, somehow, and _laugh_ wildly, having the time of his fucking life after making Steve drop hundreds of books down the stairs.

Natasha – _wait, what?_ – had eventually climbed down and helped with the mess and explained to a more confused by the second Steve that Barton was her colleague/sometimes friend and lived in Bast Apartment Complex, thanks to the owner being an old friend of Fury’s.

The four of them had fallen into a scarily natural rhythm then. Steve and Sam had quickly transported the furniture and Natasha had helped them set everything at the right place in the first try while Clint carried knick knacks and leftover boxes to the apartment via the fire-escape – because of course he did.

They’d ended up having beers and pizza and swapping stories of their time working for the government. While Steve and Sam were essentially retired, Natasha and Clint weren’t and most of their stories had included things they couldn’t say out loud, them being state secrets and all.

Soon enough, he’s mentally added Natasha to the list of people he considers responsible enough with his sanity to help keep it intact.

“Spend more time thinking about possibilities than thinking about lost opportunities.” That’s what Natasha always tells him, on the few occasions that he’s bothered to confide in her.

* * *

_2008_

His life’s settled into a mostly repetitive routine.

He’s rented a large studio a few shops down from _Yggdrasil_ and teaches kids, teens and even some adults a class on Painting for Beginners. He meets many new people through his small initiative since there are plenty of residential areas nearby besides Bast Apartments.

His new favorite person of all time is probably Peter Parker, the shy seven year old with dark hair and dark eyes who loves the sky and everything that could be found in it from birds to airplanes. His aunt May Parker is a bright and funny woman in her early twenties who regularly appreciates Peter and sticks all his best drawings to her refrigerator door.

Steve knows because Peter proudly tells him which one goes up every week.

Clint and Natasha have familiarized themselves with Thor and his now wife Jane and are more often than not found chatting to either of the two at the counter when Steve comes in for his afternoon latte after lunch. They haven’t been invited to their weekly hangouts yet but Steve knows it’s going to happen soon.

He snorts into his cup when he spots Jane pinch Clint surreptitiously on the forearm and the man jumps half a foot in shocked pain.

As he’s reading a new knitting magazine he’d borrowed from May (because yes, he can enjoy knitting patterns if he wants) he spots a dark blue kids’ sweater that makes his throat close up and choke on his coffee.

*

He and Bucky are walking along the docks, dangerously close to the water – something that George Barnes would never have allowed them to do if he’d been on shift. But he wasn’t and Steve and Bucky loved to take advantage of such rare evenings.

Bucky’s kicking a stone idly down the pavement, occasionally pulling the sleeves of his new dark blue sweater lower on his hands as he talks about how Becky had ruined his new sweater by picking a flower design for his ma to knit.

“I like the straight and pointy shapes, Steve and Becky knows that! She still picked flowers. And I don’t know why Ma listens to _her_. It’s supposed to be _my_ sweater – _Steve!_ ”

He grabs Steve’s arm with a shout when it looks like he’s going to lose his balance and pulls him down from the edge he’s been walking on.

“I wasn’t gonna fall!”

“Yes you were! Would ya quit doing stupid shit, Steve! I’m talking about something important here. Becky _ruined_ my new sweater!”

Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head at Bucky’s theatrics, even though he _had_ been about to lose his balance. Bucky’s always too dramatic and quick to put blame on his little sister, most of which Steve knows is just for the heck of it.

“Becky’s five, Buck. You’re bein’ harsh on her. She only wants to make her big brother look pretty. Don’t you go fightin’ with her on this.” Steve warns Bucky with an edge to his voice.

He’d pretty much fallen in love with Rebecca Barnes the day she’d been born. When he’d looked at her the first time – _the exact size of my forearm, Ma!_ – with her little face and small hands and cute feet, he’d felt the first surge of protectiveness. He’d known since then that whoever dared to touch her would have to go through him.

Bucky’d often disliked the division of Steve’s attention this had brought on, even though they’d gotten over it in recent years. Bucky knew that nobody could take his place in Steve’s life.

“I ain’t gonna _fight_ her. It’s Ma’s fault anyway.” Bucky mumbled off, kicking his stone with so much force that it flew away a few feet from them. He’s two years younger than Steve but they’re the same height now, and Bucky’s already stronger than him.

They watch the overcast sky and angry waves crashing heavily against the shore for a minute before Bucky bumps his shoulder and mutters, “Let’s go, its ‘bout ta rain.”

Steve nods and they silently make their way back to Bucky’s place. It’s where they go first after playing every day because Steve’s Mom will be there with Bucky’s, knitting or cooking something.

“The sweater looks good on ya, Buck. It matches your eyes.”

Bucky grins shyly at that and shoves Steve lightly but continues walking on in silence with his hands stuck in his pockets.

They’re halfway there when there’s a loud crack of thunder above them and a harsh wind starts blowing. There’s a moment then, when Bucky looks at Steve with naked fear in his eyes and Steve’s heart skips a beat.

It’s a picture that his mind will never let him forget.

They both know how dangerous it will be if Steve gets caught in the rain. He’s sick enough on normal days that the possibility of getting caught in a storm is less than entertaining. So Bucky hastily removes his new sweater and forces Steve’s head through it, despite his loud protests. Then he grabs his hand and runs like the devil.

*

There hadn’t been much to like about him in his childhood, as he’d almost always been sick. Hearing loss and heart trouble had been the least of his problems, with his lungs rattling like a jar full of coins in the winters and the cold making him think his nose would never unblock and his food would never taste good again. If there was a sickness going around, there was no doubt that Steve would get it. His immune system had always been fucked and his body had always been the least reliable to defend itself.

That had been where Bucky Barnes had come in. Bucky was two years younger than him, but he had never shied away from defending Steve or jumping into a fight in general. Attached at the hip as they always were, he was naturally dragged into fights because of Steve and his Inability to Let Things Go. But there was always an affectionate light in his eyes accompanied by a fond shake of his head every time they dragged themselves home after a fight.

Bucky’s father was a thin man with the best eyes Steve had ever seen. They were kind and mischievous at the same time and Steve, whose father had died the year he was born, loved him almost as much as his own mother. George Barnes had always treated him and Bucky equally, despite their difference in age, but the only thing that mattered to Steve was that he treated him like a son and nothing less.

When he thought of the Barnes household, he had flashes of a dull purple sofa in a small living room where George Barnes read the newspaper in the mornings, a sunny green kitchen where Sarah Rogers and Winifred Barnes scolded them and fixed them up after brawls, baked them cookies and fed them frosting, punished them for poking fingers into the batter of Sarah’s special apple pie and where, in the later years, Steve made Rebecca her favorite cereal.

Rebecca Barnes was born when Steve was five years old and Bucky was been three. He remembers being fascinated with how small she was and falling in love as soon as she’d grabbed his finger for the first time. He’d proceeded to take her side in her everything and spoil her to the best of his ability, something he enjoyed thoroughly because it never failed to make Bucky jealous.

Bucky was one of Steve’s earliest memories. He sharply remembered the fat on Bucky’s cheeks the first time their mothers had met, the way he had been sucking his thumb and Steve had felt slightly disgusted with him because _he’s a baby, Ma, and I’m four – how can I play with him?_

But it had lasted hardly an hour, after which Steve had decided, during a serial coloring competition in his small room, that Bucky was his bestest friend ever. He was clever, he could draw straight lines (mostly) and he had very nice brown hair. His mother also made very good cookies.

All he recalled of his childhood now was random races with Bucky, walking Rebecca to school, coloring with the Barnes siblings and occasional walks on the docks with George Barnes.

Then the best and worst thing in his life had happened when they’d had to move to Los Angeles at the age of eleven, thanks to a Stark Program targeted towards children’s healthcare and advances made in the field. He still didn’t understand the full specifics of it but he understood that the Stark Headquarters were in Los Angeles and they needed to be there for the treatment.

All Steve remembered from the few years of his childhood in LA was the constant smell of motor oil, concrete and hot dogs. Stark Industries was a different story altogether – he remembered the constant sticky sterile smell, he remembered how scared he was the first day in the lab, he remembered Howard Stark’s striking face, his sharp smile, black and white hair and large hands offering him a toffee.

He remembered being miserable despite the progress his body was making, because he wasn’t with the people he loved and treasured the most in the world. He had loved the Barnes terrifically in that pure way that children sometimes loved things, and often dreamed of going back to Brooklyn and seeing Bucky and Rebekkah again. Such dreams left him hopeful and optimistic, waiting for the day his treatment would be done and he could return.

The day in question came and left four years later, but they never left because by then, Sarah Rogers had begun staying extremely sick, the cause of which was discovered to be cancer. She had known very well that he couldn’t make ends meet on his own and decided to live three more years on Howard Stark’s charity.

Steve had decided by then that the only way forward for him was enlisting in the army and follow in the footsteps of his father. He had always dreamed of being useful for his country and right then, there had been nothing else that’d made sense to him other than giving his remaining life to the forces.

*

These were some things that he simply couldn’t forget. These were the ghosts that he couldn’t get rid of, these were the memories that he couldn’t help but recall and smile and be fond of, and these were people that he just couldn’t help but love.

He faintly remembers calling over Natasha to cancel his classes for the day, and even though he knows he shouldn’t trust her that explicitly, he can’t bring himself to care with the ringing in his ears and the onslaught of memories threatening to overwhelm him.

He’s probably already overwhelmed, to be honest, because Clint is leading him to his apartment with a small guiding hand on his back and Steve can’t be less aware of his surroundings if he tried. He can’t hear anything other than a faint thrum of voices and he only reacts by clutching the magazine tighter in his hands when somebody tries to take it away.

The next time he’s fully aware of his surroundings is when he wakes up in his own bed.

He immediately knows something is wrong because there’s no magazine anywhere in his reach and Sam’s sleeping on an armchair he seems to have dragged into his bedroom.

The man stirs as soon as Steve gets up and starts looking for the magazine. It’s presented to him by Sam and he grabs it, quickly flipping the pages to search for the picture that had triggered something in him.

“Steve? You wanna fill me in on _what the hell_ happened?”

He’s aware of Sam asking the question but his attention is on the picture, trying to discern if it is indeed the exact same sweater or just looks like it. He decides it’s not, it’s only the design that’s the same. It’s from some upcoming New York designer called Holly Freeman. He throws the magazine aside and slips back into the covers silently.

He can feel Sam’s glare follow him into the covers. There’s a commotion at his room’s door and he realizes he has no idea how long he’s been out. The last thing he remembers is giving in to a warm embrace and start crying because God, he misses them so much it’s like a physical ache in his chest that nothing can heal.

He sees Natasha and Clint standing in twin poses at the door and he feels a blush spread on his face when he realizes he’d been crying into Natasha’s shoulder. She walks to his bed and sits beside him with a blank expression. He’s more scared of her at that moment than he’s ever been in his life.

“You scared me, Captain.”

It’s a whisper but it makes him let go of all the tension he’s been holding and he melts into the covers, not ready to face anything yet. He wants to wallow in his memories and not think about the fact that he lives really close to Cobble Street, the place where he grew up and where the Barnes could still be living.

“You gonna share with us, Cap?” Clint asks from his place at the foot of the bed now and Steve doesn’t know how to respond. It’s too painful to explain and he’s too shameful of his behavior so far to make another attempt at recalling everything.

A part of him has always forced every thought of Bucky and Rebecca back to the deepest recesses of his mind, eventually reasoning that they would’ve contacted him by then if they’d really wanted to reconcile. He didn’t know if he was madder at Bucky for never seeking him out, no matter what situation he was in, or himself for thinking such bitter thoughts about his best friend.

“I’m not sure I can. It’s… complicated.” He says eventually, to another disapproving frown from Sam and neutral look from Natasha.

“I’ve never seen you lose it like that, Cap. You sure you want to keep this in, whatever this is?” Clint pushes rather bluntly and Steve closes his eyes and sighs deeply. He knows he has no other option than to give them _something_.

“I had a friend once. We lost touch and I… I just got reminded of something about him, suddenly. It’s been so long that it caught me off guard. There’s nothing to be done, really.” 

There, a half truth. They don’t need to know that there is something to be done and Steve’s going to call up the office of this Holly Freeman as soon as possible and inquire if a woman named Rebecca works there and if he could get in touch with her, please?

They don’t need to know, because despite everything, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton work for Nicholas Fury and are decidedly dangerous and he isn’t ready to share this part of his life with them, if he’s ever able to find it.

*

When the woman says, “Yes, Rebecca Barnes. Who shall I say is speaking?” Steve panics and cuts the call. He has to support himself against the side of the payphone, because of course he’s using a payphone, and breathes a couple of times to center himself.

Right, he needs to know if the address is the same.

He calls back and the same woman picks up again.

“I’m calling from Penny Courier Delivery Services, Ma’am. The last call got cut by mistake. Please forgive me. I need to confirm Miss Barnes’ address for a delivery. There’s been a mix up by one of our delivery guys.”

He stays silent as the woman accepts his apology and tells him to wait. He uselessly wills his heart to calm down when he hears a voice say, “Thanks, Reggie. I’ve got it.”

“Hi, Rebecca Barnes?” He says in his calmest voice and there’s a beat of silence on the other side.

“Yes, who is this?”

Steve repeats what he’d said to the Reggie woman and closes his eyes as his throat threatens to close up when he says the address that he’d remembered through all the years.

“That’s correct but I don’t remember ordering anything. Could you please tell me the name of the company and if the order is paid?”

Rebecca only has a slight accent now and her voice has changed and it’s slightly deeper now than the girlish squeak of his memories. He breathes silently before answering her question. He has to keep up the ruse before he can cut the call or she’ll panic. Somehow, he doesn’t want to tell her who he is yet, not over a call.

“Bast Industries, Ma’am and it’s paid. Thank you for the confirmation and we apologize for the inconvenience caused to you.”

There’s another brief pause and his heart jumps a beat when she replies in a curious voice, “That’s alright. What did you say your name was?”

“S-Sam. Sam Wilson, Ma’am. Have a nice day.” He stutters out and slams the phone back as quietly as he can, without waiting for her reply. She’ll know soon anyway.

He tries not to panic as he walks towards Cobble Street. He’d thought it would take him a while to reach there walking, at least until after Becky gets back from work, but he’s so lost in his own thoughts that he’s standing outside the familiar door before he knows.

He hangs out around the door for a while, unsure if he should knock or not. It’s some time after lunch and he’s pretty sure Becky hasn’t returned yet and he’s not sure if he can face George and Winifred Barnes without at least seeing Becky first.

He finds himself wondering how tall she would be now, as he waits. He wonders if she’d wear her hair in the same way as she’d worn when he’d seen her last – clutching her frayed pink doll and sobbing into Bucky’s shaking shoulder when their taxi had driven away. She’d be twenty eight now, five years younger than him.

He looks up from the pavement he’s staring at every time a car stops anywhere near him but it turns out he should’ve been paying more attention to the sidewalk.

“Excuse me?”

A voice snaps him out of his thoughts and he’s staring at chocolate brown eyes and windswept wavy hair and oh God – _it’s her._

He tries to blink away the wetness in his eyes – _he needs to see her, damn it_ – and takes deep breathes as he stares at the familiar face of Rebecca Barnes; the wide forehead she shared with Bucky, George Barnes’ flat nose and dimpled chin and Winifred’s deep set eyes.

He realizes he hasn’t said anything when she blinks in an adorably confused fashion and squints at him with a curious look on her face. Her adorable frown is still the same and Steve laughs a little hysterically and stands up to clarify before he confuses her further.

“Becky?”

There’s a second when she freezes and then her mouth goes slack with shock, a hand coming up to cover it as she blinks at him in recognition.

“Steve?!” She cries tearfully and he grins wetly before she’s thrown herself on him in the greatest bear hug of all time, climbing him like a tall monkey.

He isn’t sure if he’s laughing or crying but God, they’re both being loud and Becky is definitely crying into his shoulder, yep, because he can feel the tears soaking into his shirt. He squeezes her tighter and feels a laugh bubble up out of the grown-ass woman clinging to him.

It’s not like he can fault her, though, because he can feel himself becoming a little more whole the longer he holds her, parts of him knitting back into place like a wound healing, parts he hadn’t even realized he was missing.

* * *

_2016_

Looking back, Steve thinks he can pinpoint the day he’d lost any hopes of having a normal life. It was that night seven years ago when he and Sam had finally gathered the courage to ask Clint and Natasha about their relationship, which had led the four of them to go out, thanks to the heavy topic of discussion.

He could pinpoint the exact moment, in fact – the moment a very drunk Clint had looked over at the very drunk three of them standing on their building’s wet pavement at half past three in the morning and signed, “I’m not used to worrying about keys because I use the fire escape so I didn’t pick them up when we left.”

Now, at the ripe age of forty-one, he leads a relatively calm life with a healthy routine that consists of morning coffee with Sam, work, afternoon coffee with Thor, work and occasional dinners with Becky. Most importantly, it manages to keep him away from troublesome situations (read: Clint) which could cause disruptions in his carefully balanced lifestyle.

Well, it mostly does.

This is the reason that despite his best efforts to not get caught up in any stupid shit, he’s still the one who gets stuck with bringing two six packs of beer, four pizzas and three large packets of crisps up the stairs to his and Sam’s apartment on the fourth goddamn floor.

Clint, the disaster that he is, managed to buy everything they’d asked for on the way back from work (a courier delivery guy this month), but had effectively forgotten to deliver one last order of the day before coming home.

Of course, being the little shit that he is, he doesn’t mention that he’ll leave immediately after thrusting all the purchases into the hands of whoever’s unfortunate enough to answer the buzzer and go downstairs to help him.

Really, Steve should’ve known.

Still, he only sighs in his usual annoyed fashion before making the two trips to deposit everything in the kitchen, pointedly glaring at the giggling Natasha and Scott when they laugh at his expense, neither of them lifting a finger to help him. Sam is sitting in the living area, his leg bouncing erratically and his eyes darting to his watch from the TV screen every few seconds.

Natasha and Clint are becoming more and more carefree since they’ve shifted to working in the public sector than for the government three years ago, the reasons for which he still hasn’t been made privy to (other than a short “We’re tired of the baggage.”)

“ _Stop it!_ ” Natasha finally snaps from beside him and Sam stops abruptly with a guilty look on his face that says he hadn’t realized he was doing it.

As soon as Steve’s emptied the last of the crisps out of the pack, the doorbell rings. Sam rushes to the buzzer but it’s only Thor, which makes Scott snort again, earning himself a kick in the shins from the man anxious for his date to arrive.

Thor’s arrival puts Steve a little more at ease. He loves Sam and Nat and Clint, he does, but they’re a lot younger than him, while also being complete shitheads most of the time. Scott’s presence only adds to the mayhem – the man is erratic as they come and the fact that he’s basically responsible for the smooth running of the building and it’s various tenants doesn’t stop him from getting up to ridiculous shit. Steve still hasn’t forgotten about the Licorice Incident of ’08.

Their collective motley mostly leaves him feeling like a harried father trying to keep his overgrown babies in check, which really isn’t too far from the reality, all things considered.

This is why Thor, now in his late thirties with his wife, problematic brother and successful café comforts Steve with his mere presence. The blond man fills the room with his mere presence as he enters with a grin and a large Tupperware container. Scott high fives him in greeting and grabs the box, immediately trying to force it open while Nat gives him a hug and Sam grunts at him from the sofa.

“Evening folks! Jane sends her apologies and some apple pecan pie with the hopes that you all shall not deny her the gossip regarding the mysterious Miss Maria who we _finally_ get to meet today.”

“Lovely!”

“I love apple pecan pie, oh God I _love_ your wife Thor!”

“Evenin’ pal.” Steve greets the man with a pat on the shoulder, pleased to see him after a long week of minimal interaction. Since Thor’s job makes it impossible to have free hours besides for sleep, he and Jane often alternate between staying at the shop and attending the random evening hangouts at their places.

Today’s is, however, anything but random.

“How’s Shuri this week? Any progress?” Steve asks as Thor automatically starts helping him rearrange things in the refrigerator to make space for the box of pie now abandoned by Scott. He’s gone back to the sofa and is now taking turns with Nat to poke Sam into talking about Maria. Again.

“A lot, actually. She’s a bright kid - naturally charming – and she got more orders right this week. Broke two cups which is huge improvement over last week’s five.”

There’s a hesitant pause before he continues, “Jane thinks something’s not right though.”

“Not right? What do you mean?” Steve pauses with two milk bottles in his arms, turning to look back up at him.

“Well, they talked a bit this week. She hasn’t been very talkative before now but she let slip that her friend Peter turned her towards this place for a temporary job.”

Steve frowns at that. Shuri, a classmate of Peter’s, is T’Challa’s sister and T’Challa now owns the Bast Apartment Complex after his father’s death three years ago. She could easily find a job with any company suited to her interests, smart and intelligent as she was, so why would she choose to waitress at a café in a building owned by her brother?

The girl hasn’t struck Steve as lazy or the kind to depend on her brother’s money or power. More than that, Steve knows Peter since he’d been a kid who hid behind his Aunt’s skirts. He’s seen him grow up from drawing airplane outlines for fun to excelling his science classes with cleverly applied theories. He doesn’t think that’s the kind of friend Peter would sing high praises of.

But then, Peter also sings praises of Tony Stark these days, thanks to his internship with Stark Tech this summer.

“Huh.” He eventually lets out, turning back to his resetting, “I wouldn’t think T’Challa would approve of this. He might not like me but surely he would recognize his sister’s potential and push her to do better.”

“T’Challa doesn’t like you? Who said that?” Thor screws up his face like it’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard and follows Steve as he gets up to wash his hands.

“Nobody said it. I just have a feeling sometimes. He’s too tense during his visits.”

“That’s bullshit, Steve. Maybe he’s always like that. There’s no way that’s true.”

“What bullshit of Steve’s are we calling out now? I love it when we do that, I want in. What’s it about?” Scott pipes up immediately from his place on the floor, having overheard the conversation as they walk in with four bowls of crisps between them, and Steve frowns disapprovingly at him.

Thor has no such qualms however and seats himself beside Scott before explaining, “Steve thinks T’Challa doesn’t like him. That’s not true, is it?”

There’s a pointed silence in which Scott goes a little pink before looking at Steve with a sheepish smile, “Yeah, T’Challa doesn’t like Steve a lot.”

Steve sends Thor a triumphant look, which immediately puts Scott back into his usual unapologetic rambling mode, “He says it’s because he doesn’t trust the government and thinks they use the military for causing more problems than solutions and doesn’t agree with their decisions and blah blah blah. He gets really riled up about it actually once he starts, so I always try not to bring it up.”

Huh. Steve didn’t known that little fact about T’Challa and he makes a mental note to have a conversation with the man about it. He had, however, known that Natasha and Sam would freeze as soon as the phrase _trust the government_ was said, so he isn’t at all surprised when Sam’s next words to Scott are a bit harsher than deserved.

“What the hell are you doing? Those are for Maria because she doesn’t like pizza!”

Scott freezes rather comically with a single chip in his hand, a slightly surprised look on his face, “Who the fuck doesn’t like pizza?”

Just then, the doorbell rings again.

Everyone freezes for a second, before Sam makes a mad dash towards the buzzer again. Natasha, being the unnaturally gifted woman that she is, snatches her bowl out of the way of Sam’s flailing limbs but Scott, newly shocked into a pause, is not so quick.

Sam’s foot hits the bowl in Scott’s hand so that it arcs dramatically through the air, sending crisps flying into every corner of the room while Steve and Thor look on in horror. Nat, who is, as usual, annoyingly quick, has covered her head with a pillow but the rest of them aren’t so lucky.

Steve has some difficulty in controlling his impulse to face palm so hard that he leaves a handprint (which, believe him, has happened)or pull his hair out of his scalp, or punch Scott Lang, or all three.

“Sorry?”

The man in question intones timidly and Steve opens his mouth to reprimand him but a woman’s tinny voice cuts through the tense silence.

“Hey Sam. It’s Maria, let me up, please?”

“Hey babe, yeah come on up.” Sam says cheerfully, before he turns back and the sappy smile slides off his face like snow slides off windshields. Before the little remaining color can drain from his face, Steve snaps everyone into action and they spend a strenuous minute and a half hunting for crisps wherever they can see one and putting them back into the bowl.

When there’s a knock on the door, Nat takes to quickly snatching small pieces off their clothes and hair and throwing them into the abandoned bowl. She finishes right at the moment Sam opens the door and just as well, because Steve’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to hide his expression from Nat otherwise.

The last time he’d seen Maria Hill was in 2007, standing behind Fury while the man had explained the specs of his Very Top Secret Operation that he thought needed Steve’s skills of Exceptional Leadership. He’d later learned that Fury had stolen her from the Navy because she’s a highly skilled and efficient woman who had made waves within the community because of how quickly she’d risen through the ranks to Commander.

So it’s hard to hide his surprise when he sees her standing at the door to his apartment, kissing his roommate and toeing off her shoes with a smile. He knows the exact second she notices him because her smile freezes for a second and her eyes flicker with recognition, before it’s gone and she moves her gaze to Thor standing next to him.

Sam’s immediately loped an arm around her waist and he realizes she’s leaning into him in a display of easy comfort. His stomach falls as he realized how happy Sam looks and how excited he’d been about finally getting to introduce his girlfriend, Maria.

“Everyone, this is Maria, Maria this is everyone.” Sam gestures vaguely towards them, grinning broadly. The two look sickly in love.

“Hey Maria.” Steve carefully inserts the right amount of teasing and cheer in his voice to pass off as normal, but inside, he’s waiting for a cue from Maria about how she wants him to proceed.

“Hey… Steve, right?” She says with some hesitation, after looking at Sam for confirmation. It prickles his skin how easily she pretends not to know his name, because there’s no doubt in his mind that she knows exactly who he is.

Still, he smiles appropriately and shakes her hand, working to release the tension in his shoulders. Sam knows him too well and Natasha’s far too observant to let it go if he displays any hint of discomfort. He needs to have a conversation with Maria about what the fuck is going on before he accidentally lets anything on to his friends.

Especially Natasha. She’s like a bloodhound with this stuff.

He looks at her just in time to catch her giving Maria an appreciative glance. That answers his doubts about the potential of Nat recognizing _Commander Hill_. Then she turns to him and gestures towards Sam’s over enthusiastic introduction to Thor and Scott and rolls her eyes.

Steve grins easily and retreats to the kitchen as Sam starts arguing with Thor about what they’re going to watch. The kitchen’s separated from the living area by a small hallway that leads to two small bedrooms on the right and a common bathroom straight ahead.

Steve turns left into the kitchen and begins pulling the heated pizza from the oven and beer from the refrigerator. He straightens as he looked at the things he’s supposed to carry and shouts as loud as he can.

“Will someone help me carry the food and beer?!”

There’s a general loud grumble and he hears Maria say, “It’s alright, Sam – you guys make some space and pick what we’re watching and I’ll help Steve.”

She’s already reached the kitchen by the end of her sentence and the smile on her face falls off as soon as she’s out of sight of the others.

“Does he know?”

Steve’s too pissed at the idea that Fury would send Maria into his life on purpose, through Sam of all people, to bother with formalities and niceties. He doesn’t look at her as he asks - he needs to know what the fuck’s going on here first.

“No. HR at Stark Industries.”

There’s silence as Steve cuts open the six packs of beer from their wrap and Maria searches for plates.

“He doesn’t even have an idea?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I want be sure before I tell him.”

“He’s not going to appreciate that you’re lying to him.”

“I really like Sam.” Maria says over the din she’s making taking out plates, her voice even quieter, “And I’m serious enough about him that I want to tell him. That needs thorough research.”

“Fuck your recon. He’s in love with you.” He states vehemently and feels her still beside him. 

He still hasn’t looked at her. Thor’s boisterous laugh from the living room echoes in the silence.

“I’m in love with him too. That’s why I’m here.”

Steve isn’t sure if he believes her about that. Despite his misgivings, he wants Sam to be happy and if this turns out to be a setup by Nicholas fucking Fury, he’s going to bury the man alive.

“He’s a therapist – he doesn’t like to be blindsided. Better half truths than white lies. Just my two cents.”

“Noted.”

With that she turns away and walks out of the kitchen, taking the plates and beer with her, leaving Steve behind with the pizza.

*

“Oh God, would you two stop being so bloody adorable – it’s making me sick.” Clint whines from his place on the safe, squished comfortably between Nat and Scott. He’d arrived about five minutes after they’d all settled in, with apologies and a very dirty white flower for Maria, which Steve’s sure he’d picked from the roadside.

Steve’s situated beside Nat’s legs and Thor by Scott’s, both of them finding themselves too broad to share the sofa. It’s one of the few things that Steve had liked about his treatment, that it’d helped him get as big as he’d wanted. He hates feeling small now, remembering the boy who’d always needed someone’s help to do everything.

Sam and Maria, who’d been busy being disgustingly sweet on the loveseat, look up guiltily at Clint’s reprimand. Noticing Steve’s frown, they straighten themselves slightly and try, once again, to focus on the adventures of the teenage witch called Sabrina, which to be honest, Steve finds a little too similar to Harry Potter to give much credit to.

“Just because you’re a walking human disaster doesn’t mean we all have to be, Barton.”

Sam’s reply is met with the very adult response of Clint poking his tongue out at him. Maria and Thor laugh at them and Nat just clucks her tongue.

So far, they’ve been over the generic questions of job (HR at Stark Industries) and family (Mum and Dad died years ago, succeeded by an estranged brother) and Maria and Sam sitting together have such a glowing grace of two people content with each other that it feels right to simply accept her presence and let them be for the time being.

“Do we have more crisps? I really like these.” Clint says shifting in his seat like he’s going to get up before Thor cuts him off with a shake of his head, “Nah pal, sorry. I think we’re out.”

“What? But there’s a bowl right there.” Clint says pointing to a table in the corner which holds a few books and magazines, their mail, and now, on top of everything, Scott’s bowl full of dirty crisps.

“Oh right. I forgot when I put it there.” Steve exclaims before anyone else can get a word out. He sees Sam squeezing Maria’s arm as she opens her mouth and catches her gaze to give her a quick wink.

So he’s kind of an asshole sometimes. So what.

Clint deserves it for making him climb the stairs so many times when he easily could’ve avoided doing that to him. In his eyes, he has it coming.

He easily hands the bowl over to Clint and Thor hastily hides a laugh as a cough. Clint, blissfully oblivious, starts eating.

Scott excuses himself about a minute later by choking out a quick ‘Bathroom’ and Natasha’s face is very carefully blank. Sam hasn’t watched the TV screen with such intensity all evening.

For a small while, Steve has the intense satisfaction of hearing Clint eat dirty crisps enthusiastically and Sam and Thor carefully holding their breath, lest they let a chuckle escape. Then Thor starts coughing violently and retreats to the kitchen in the name of water.

Steve catches Sam’s eye and quickly looks away, trying to keep his face schooled to the best of his ability.

“These are really good, what brand were these?” Clint asks, looking at a chip appreciatively, and Steve almost loses it right there, but Natasha is a master at keeping her cool and replies disdainfully, “You bought them dumbass.”

“Oh yeah.”

Maria snorts at that before slapping her hands to her mouth with wide eyes. But Steve’s made the fatal mistake of looking at Sam’s watered eyes and it results in them both suddenly losing all control and dissolving into hysterical and insane suppressed giggles.

It isn’t long before Natasha joins in and he doesn’t even realize Maria’s moved from her seat until her voice comes from the kitchen, “Holy shit, you both are going to choke yourselves to death. You can laugh now guys.”

Thor has his fists thrust into his mouth to stop sound from escaping and Scott has tears in his eyes; Steve’s never seen Scott that red before and his dilapidated state set him off again.

“Crisps – floor – kicked –”

“Accident – Maria – just arrived – Sam fuckin’ panicked –”

Once he and Natasha have brokenly filled in Maria and Clint, who’d abandoned the chips in the confusion, Maria’s on the floor by Sam and Clint’s spluttering and trying to wipe his tongue with his hands, like it’ll get rid of the things he had consumed.

Clint’s reaction only sets off more laughter and him running to the bathroom to gurgle only worsens their state. It’s at least twenty minutes before everyone’s stopped laughing, ridiculously set off by the grumpy and cowed look on Clint’s face.

“Oh Jesus fuck. Steve I think you killed us.”

“I stuff myself everyday like a turkey on thanksgiving but I’ve never had my stomach ache this hard. Oh God…”

“And I’ve never lost my breath this bad, not outside the bedroom.”

Maria’s ill-timed confession sends them into peals of ridiculous laughter again, even Clint, who’d been feeling a little better after kicking a laughing Steve in his back a few times.

They’re in much different positions than when they’d started and Steve decides it’s much more organic this way. Clint’s lying face down on the sofa and Natasha’s draped over the loveseat, her head full of red hair hanging out on one side and her short legs on the other. Sam and Maria are sitting with their backs to the couch, almost in each other’s lap and Scott’s lying right below the TV from where he surveys them all, head held up on one arm.

Steve and Thor are sprawled somewhere in the middle, a large blond mess of muscle, hair and crisps.

“So Maria, what’s it like working for Stark? We’ve heard some nice things about the guy.” Scott asks randomly, playing with an empty beer can, rolling it towards Thor’s hand, from where he’d send it rolling back.

“It’s not that bad. The pay’s good and the people are nice. Pepper Potts mostly keeps everything in check. Tony Stark actually interferes pretty less. He has more interaction with PR and R&D.”

Steve wonders where she’s getting her information since she isn’t exactly working for Stark. She must’ve done her homework to prepare for the night.

“R&D? We have a kid who lives around here; he’s interning in that Department this summer. He doesn’t shut up about Tony Stark these days, apparently.” Scott’s eyes flick to Steve for a fraction of a second but Steve doesn’t say anything. He isn’t sure if he wants Maria to know about Peter.

He isn’t sure if he wants Maria to know about anything.

“Really? He’s an intern? It’s pretty hard to get into Stark Industries for an internship. And in R&D especially. It’s the only department Stark heads personally. That’s impressive. Who is this kid?”

“His name’s Peter.” Steve replies this time, turning to face Maria for the first time that evening, hoping the warning is evident in his voice.

Everyone knows how close he’s with Peter so he knows his tone will be excused. Peter’s simply out of bounds. They aren’t allowed to fuck with Peter and needs to make sure Maria understands that.

“I’m asking so that I can make sure he’s not being bullied into working overtime or something, Steve. Stark’s passionate but he’s also pretty unorthodox. He forgets that normal people need food and sleep to function and I want to make sure he’s not setting himself up to get sued by any interns.”

Steve considers her carefully, and she raises an eyebrow, not backing down. It’s a tense moment and he can feel everyone holding their breath. He relents after a few seconds and turns his face back up to the ceiling.

“Like I said, his name’s Peter.”

*

It’s late into the night by the time everyone leaves. Scott’s trips into the city are always erratic so he has his own room in one of the buildings. He actually lives out in the countryside with his wife Hope, whose Dad had owned the Ant Farm she’d inherited and where they now lived. Scott had been so taken with the idea that he’d chosen to live there instead of getting a place in the city, which would’ve been much more convenient.

Steve, however, has been to Scott’s farm and can see the appeal of the greenery, the open landscape and the freedom and calm that comes with it.

Thor’s the first to leave since he has the morning shift, which means dealing with Shuri first thing in the morning. Steve doesn’t envy the guy. Clint and his bruised ego bunk at Nat’s as they often do, which is just a technicality because he lives there but doesn’t pay rent. It’s a whole thing. Maria calls a cab for her side of the city.

Once Thor’s left and Sam’s trying to wheedle information about Scott’s next potential trip to the city, Steve quietly pulls Maria aside.

“Are there any updates… about my favor?”

Maria shoots him a look that says Not Here and ends up glaring at him while answering, “If there was, he’d get in touch with you.”

“Or he’d make you get in touch with me.”

Maria sighs and looks at Sam as she answers, “It’s not the reason I’m here, Steve.”

She looks at him with sympathy then, and Steve’s heart almost beats out of his chest with a scarily hollow feeling. He’s almost sure that he’s going to hear the two words he never wants to hear.

“Remember, no news here is good news.”

He lets out a defeated sigh and rubs a tired hand over his face. Something is not right, he can tell. There’s something else Maria’s hiding and his instincts are screaming at him to push her further but he can’t afford to. Not in front of Sam. Not here. Not now.

And anyway, she’s right, at least he isn’t dead.

**Author's Note:**

> I. NEED. The. Words. GIMME. Your. Words.


End file.
